


Ghosts

by CaptainNeedsNoSleep



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Regret, Sad Ending, angry blowjob, angry facial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22993954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainNeedsNoSleep/pseuds/CaptainNeedsNoSleep
Summary: It's about what was and what could've been, about guilt and regret. About chances not taken and things made worse, about emotional collateral damage.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Jesse McCree/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know where this came from. But now it's here, full-on McReyes (and R76) hurt with no comfort at all.  
> This one is sad, I'm sorry.
> 
> Please note that one COULD read it as a Major Character Death (concerning Reyes turning to Reaper).

He blinks rapidly against the hard neon light coming from above. Through watering eyes he can see a silhouette entering the room and he doesn’t need his vision to be sure  of who it is . He knows the stance by his heart and the jingle of spurs is a sweet, torturing melody to his ears. He tries to laugh, a bitter, sarcastic noise sitting like a tumor in his throat – no need to try the restraints on his arms and legs : he taught him, they’ll hold. He would be proud but the feeling fades in his chest, deeming him not worthy of pride when it comes to Jesse.

“Wouldn’t have thought I’d see you ever again ,” the words stroke Gabe’s ears softly.  Any thing, even barked insults, would seem like a  relief . Hearing him again, his soft drawl. “But here you are, pretty much alive and well and the goddamn bastard I remembered you to be.” Even his bark of a laugh is a melody in Gabe’s ears.

He can’t do much from where he is: bound to the metal chair in one of the well-known interrogation rooms at base. Doesn’t even matter which one, they all looked the same. He can’t speak because there would be nothing he could say anyway. It’s far too late for excuses and regret is something he grew used to during all the years.

A worn leather boot steps on the stool between Gabe’s thighs and a whiff of heavy cigar smoke plays with his senses and rocket boosts him back  to those days  when Jesse picked up the habit. At first to drive him and Jack mad , l ater as the smell of an accomplished mission, accompanied by the sting of iron from someone’s blood on Jesse’s hands. Then, finally, the sweet mixture of a good single malt and sunsets at places names long lost because they never mattered in the first place.

“You know there were times you could’ve done it right, Gabriel?” – his voice is a whisper next to his ear. “Not everything. We were all part of this mess. But you could’ve shown some mercy. On me, maybe. Or Jack.” He wasn’t expecting it to sting after so many years. But it hurt pretty good, to be honest. Nestled somewhere in his chest and threw away all the good memories. The ones where he felt safe and warm.

“But I’m telling that to someone who chose to let everyone else suffer from his own masochistic tendencies, am I right?”

He would nod but it’s useless. No need to interrupt Jesse’s words. The only comfort he admits to himself. Instead, he aims for that sweet,  _ solid _ feeling of pain by looking up and into Jesse’s face. Older now, more lines – time passed. Edges softened by memories.

Memories Gabe’s not allowing himself to keep and yet they  _ hold onto him _ .

“We have time now. So I reckon I can be honest – now, that it does not matter. I just want to get that off my chest, you know? Bugged me for so long and all the time you made me think it was my fault. That I had feelings I wasn’t supposed to have.”

His eyes used to be softer. He used to smile even when smiles grew scarcer the older they got. He still remembers and holds onto it. Claws into that image of Jesse laughing.

He wants to beg for Jesse not to take that away. To leave him this tiny bit of their past together but he knows Jesse will take it all with him. It’s his right, after all. But knowing doesn’t make the fear go away.

“You’re damn right. I came to come clear. I wanted it for so long now. If you’re making a mess, Gabriel, it’s important to burn everything behind you. To  _ leave nothing _ .” Words bite him like venomous snakes. “But in the end you weren’t even keen to your own advice. In the end, you let us bleed. Left us behind and got away thinking it wouldn’t haunt you. Joke’s on you, Gabriel.”

When did he become so bitter? So much like Jackie and him in the last years?

Jesse removes the foot from the chair and settles to lean on the table across the room. His hands don’t shake, his voice as clear and cold as ice.

“It wasn’t right, I know. Wasn’t right to get hard whenever you put my face in the mud during training. It was confusing, at first. You were my commander. The gruff voice that barked me out of my cot each morning but despite all the guilt I felt it ran down hot my spine all the time. Whenever the recruits fooled around it was you I imagined fucking me.”

He huffs out a laugh. Gabe wishes it was more bitter. Wishes for a hint of emotion in it.

“I knew it was stupid but I couldn’t help myself. Couldn’t imagine someone else touching me while I jerked off at night. I just… went with that. Managed to convince myself it was ok to have some dumbass feelings for your commanding officer. Nobody got hurt so what would it matter? The fantasies belonged to me. But then you started to see me. Not the kid I was back then, but something else. I bathed in your praise whenever I hit my targets. It washed over me and fueled all the stuff I imagined could be, in another world.”

Gabe feels shame washing up his back and welcomes it with open arms. This was one of the many points where he could’ve stopped all of it by being disciplined. But instead  he relished in his small guilty pleasure. In the crush his subordinate had on him while Jack was too busy with everything else. It would be so easy to blame Jack, blame their work. But Jesse’s not here for easy. Maybe the last thing he can do right, actually, is to hear him out. Hearing all this mess not only in his head but from his lips. Torture him, again, with everything that happened and the endless possibilities he could’ve stopped it back then. And didn’t – because he thought he deserved it.

The tears come from the neon lights his eyes aren’t used to he keeps convincing himself while he looks up at Jesse. The edges of former Jesse in his mid-twenties blur with his present silhouette, the metal of the arm stings his eye even more and he leans into the ropes holding him in place. They have a strange give, almost like rubber, forcing him back into position as soon as he stops leaning into them. He wants to say something, anything, but there’s nothing he could say. There was a time for words but he missed it and now their absence make his mouth turn sour.

Jesse shakes his head, brown locks falling in his face. “Don’t even try. I’m not here to hear from you – I’m here to show you what you did. What you’ve become. I’m not letting it gnaw on me like  _ it ate you whole _ . I managed. Survived. And the saddest thing is that you taught me how to survive.”

Gabe tries to nod but he feels so weak. Instead, he just closes his eyes and lets Jesse’s voice wash over him.

“You could’ve said something, Gabriel. Could’ve turned me and my stupid little crush down. Instead you pushed me. You kept watching, carefully. Kept me close, to close for our own good just to push me away whenever I stood at the line, trying to be brave. But never too far, we still worked as a  _ whole _ . So you kept me and Jack knew.”

His words lacked the emotional undertone they were supposed to have. Instead, Jesse kept an even voice as if he was reading from a mission report and the realization that he got rid of all of his emotional  baggage somewhen along the way hit Gabe hard. He wasn’t sure if he should be glad that Jesse managed or be bitter because he imagined it stronger, more meaningful.

All the times after training where he clapped Jesse on his back and saw a smile from split and bleeding lips. A dog, kicked in the side and still wagging his tail to his owner, not able to understand – or not willing to. Shared smokes on rooftops after long, exhausting briefings. Ignored short moments where he felt Jesse was reaching up to him, ready to risk everything and touch, kiss, say something. Turned down opportunities, sad smiles and more strength he ever thought was possible by continuing their dance around each other, rinsed and repeated so many times.

Shaking afterwards. Gabe returning to his shared quarters, room in the dark without a trace of Jack, without knowing if he’d even slept there during the last 48 hours. Torn between soft longing and the bitter aftertaste of a relationship  _ falling apart _ .

He prided himself in saying he loved Jack, still loves Jack come what may but didn’t love mean to work? And he had to confess he stopped working on them both for a long time, still holding onto Jack before the blue duster, before the statues and posters and conferences. Holding onto a past while the present _slipped_ through his fingers.

“Don’t you think you’re wasting your time? Speaking to a  _ ghost from the past _ ?”, a voice like gravel cuts. Squeaking of leather and steel capped boots on concrete floor.

Gabe blinks his hurting eyes open and wants to scream but there’s no air, no power left for him to scream. So he remains still and looks up  at Jack.

Older Jack, gold faded to silver now, shoulders not as wide as they used to be. Scars like his own in a face he ingrained in his memory, in each living and breathing cell of his body. A face he wished it would be the last thing he saw when he died.

Still the stance of a commander, though. Knowing his soft edges, his voice when he laughs or sighs doesn’t make the pain go away, doesn’t make him less of the authoritative man he always was. There was a time when both images of Jack - him burying his sun-freckled face into Gabe’s pillows and him in his duster, eyes like blue fire, ready to bring peace to the world - balanced each other out. Jack was both – until the pillow smiles grew scarcer and the lines on his face deeper. Times when their bed went from refuge from the world to a place to avoid.

“It’s therapy, Jack. Just because you make every psychologist cry in agony it doesn’t mean I don’t deserve my attempt on cleaning up my past. Go or stay but spare me of your comments for once.” Jesse looked Jack right in the eyes, as tall as him but wider now,  _ steadier _ .

“No comments then, only additions” Jack says and there’s something in his voice that makes Gabe widen his eyes, something that  _ crawls _ under his skin.

An unpleasant, sickening wave rolls through him and spills remnants of days gone onto the shore of his  _ consciousness _ . Those days full of standstill and turmoil after Venice , w here they have been dragged onto the surface. The day the public discovered Blackwatch it was dead. Gabe watched it crumble and fall and couldn’t do anything  - Jack closed his eyes and had to do everything to keep the damage as small as possible.

Discharge them and hide them. Make them leave for their own sake. Keeping the darkest secret for himself, hiding Gabe from the media, from the governments and letting him  _ rot _ behind a desk.

The glance they share now makes Gabe want to retch. Their regret spills into him,  _ drowning _ him in realization:

“Jesse had to leave but you hadn’t the guts to sign his leave. You hid from him, petty as you were. Not able to say goodbye, not able to let him go.”

Jack’s and Jesse’s voices merge to a cold, maddening unison:

“While you licked your wounds and tried to hold onto your last drop of pride we had to meet.”

He doesn’t need the following words. He always knew, feared. But hearing them resonate from the cold concrete walls, hearing them spill off their lips makes it so much worse.

Jesse, lost and shaking. Finally having the guts to do something, anything now that all went to hell. Jack, in the darkness of his office, ready to give him a long-needed push in the right direction. Both so incredibly hurt, lost, searching for something they might not find in each other but can lick off of each others lips.

“There he was, your ingrate. Your sharpshooter. You looked at him like you did at me, once. And yet you had not the guts to go after it. Stayed on your sinking ship and thought of you as the brave captain. He was so easy to take, so eager to drop on his knees. For you – but you weren’t there.”

Gabe feels the urge to throw up but the ropes  _ hold him together _ . He feels scattered into fragments and threw back together, all in the  _ wrong _ places, like a puzzle of memories and long  _ faded _ emotions.

“I wanted his spite. Wanted to be punished that I tried and failed. Wanted him to show me my place”, Jesse continues, and Gabe sees them, in the dark, Jesse’s fists clenched in the cargo pants of Overwatch’s Commander Morrison, tears in his eyes and dick in his throat. Gagging, full of determination, his deep, warming brown irises meet an ocean of blue – cold.  _ Lost _ .

_ “He isn’t here” _ – solace and threat for both of them.

Jack, pushing Jesse further on his dick, mumbling “he isn’t here” like a fact. Like he lost him. Ages ago, slowly, step after not followed step – and the only thing that remained was Jesse, the living evidence Gabe could feel, still. Could love but was too coward to admit it to himself.

And Jesse, soothing his rage by finally giving up, letting Jack have his ways, screaming “he isn’t there” with every fiber of his body but not the spit-slicked lips, as a question. As a reality he’s not ready to accept.

Both of them settling into “he isn’t there” as a last drum-beat of acceptance when the only sounds they can hear is Jack’s heavy panting and Jesse’s suppressed sobbing as he wipes the come off his face.

He wasn’t there. So they pushed themselves and tumbled.

“This is the last thing you could do for me – gracing us with your absence. Jack hurt me, yes. But in a way you could never do, never were brave enough to do because in the end you would’ve lost something to look forward to.”

“You weren’t brave enough to let me go, to burry our shitty present for the sake of a good memory of the past. You held it tight, so I had to rip it off your claws one day. And you weren’t brave enough to be honest with yourself – or Jesse. You held him at arms length until your puppy finally got the backbone to bite.”

_ “Feeling d e s t a b i l i z e d now? Not… in place…. Wrong?” _

Gabe tries to move but it costs him so much strength. Strength that left him a while ago. There’s only agony now.

“I don’t know how long we can keep him like this” a softer voice says, “And, honestly, I don’t think we should.”

Gabe tugs on his restraints again, with all what is left in him. His vision becomes clearer, for a fraction of a second.

They stay together in the depths of the Watchpoint: Gibraltar science facility – carved deeply into the stones, many levels under the sun-heated concrete of the watchpoint.

Ana is there, resting her wrinkled hand on Morrisons shoulder. Jesse is there, glancing up to the giant fish tank powered by the last generators they have on base.

Behind them, Winston and Angela check the thousands of beeping and blinking nubs and buttons on complex apparatuses.

“If there was an evidence he’s still… in there.” Ana sighs and presses Morrison ’ s shoulder.

In front of them, millions of black nanites form a silhouette and fall apart, dance a macabre dance and bump into the glass of the tank. Almost, like a knock.

Almost, as if he was still in there.

**Author's Note:**

> Big thankies go to my beta thereweregiants - thank you, I don't know where I would be without your support and your kind words.


End file.
